


The King, Hunted

by shipcat



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Gen, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, The Zombi Combi Strike Back, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:18:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/pseuds/shipcat
Summary: In an alternate universe where Kakuzu was sealed away and Hidan was the one that took a Rasengan to the face, someone - or something - is carving up deer in the Nara Clan Forest. Nara Shikadai, haunted by visions of strings and decay, makes the fatal mistake of going to investigate…





	The King, Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress that is very close to my heart because it brought me back into the Naruto fandom. I am posting it on the Archive in order to get feedback, especially on my characterization of Shikamaru and Shikadai.
> 
> Please enjoy! ^_^

At some point in the past, his mother had begun nagging him to spend more time with his father. Shikadai relented, as it would be even _more_ troublesome to argue with his mother.

Therefore, every evening after dinner, Shikadai went to the home office to sit with his father while he revised mission scrolls for the Hokage. For the most part, the two did not bother each other. Shikadai quietly did his Academy homework or played games while his father steadily toiled away, grumbling about deadbeat, dead-last bosses.

Once in a while, the two would discuss current events - such as the recent attack on the Village Hidden in the Steam - but for the most part, the two did not bother each other. Both father and son appreciated the fact that the father-son bonding time didn’t require any effort whatsoever.

Today, Nara Shikadai furiously pounded against the joysticks of his handheld game, wondering if he was going to die. His game blared loud warnings as his HP dropped to critical levels. His character ducked under claws and teeth and flung cutting spells down at their legs. Those closest to his avatar shrieked, now with significantly less feet than before.

Shikadai used the temporary respite to quickly drink a health potion and retreat to higher ground, mind racing with strategies. The ghouls pursued him, bloody stumps dragging against the ground.

As Shikadai scowled, an ANBU with a rabbit mask popped into the doorway, greeting Shikamaru with a salute. After scribbling a couple more lines in the margin of a scroll, he put his pen down and acknowledged the ninja, “Well? What do you want?”

“Sir!” Rabbit saluted again. “As requested, the investigative unit has compiled a report on the Nara Clan Forest. To summarize their findings: Increasing numbers of deer bodies have been found dead on the property, sir!”

“Hm. Troublesome. The report?”

The ANBU handed him a file thick with glossy photographs and documents. His father casually thumbed through the file, occasionally pausing to scratch at his goatee thoughtfully.

After a couple of minutes, Shikamaru glanced up at Rabbit, who was fidgeting with his very timid-looking mask. “Oh. You’re still here?”

“Uh… yes. I am.”

“Do you have anything else to add to this report?”

“Yes, sir! Er, that is - no, I have nothing to add. Sir.”

“Then you’re dismissed.”

“S-sir!” He bowed hastily and disappeared with a whirlwind of leaves. One leaf fluttered in the air, red around the edges in anticipation of the upcoming fall season. It landed on Shikadai’s face with a final, sad twirl. He blew it away with an irritated puff of air and continued to mash buttons.

Dodge, jump, slash, repeat. Triumph blooming in his chest as an enemy’s skull shattered into binary and disappeared.

Dodge, jump, slash, repeat. The sound of his father’s distress. His own heart leaping into his throat as he failed to evade an attack and his health fell to red.

Shikadai sighed and paused the game, observing his father out of the corner of his eye.

With the ANBU gone, Shikamaru sipped his tea for ten, fifteen, twenty seconds too long. The teacup shuddered as it was roughly settled onto the table. He returned his focus to the file, now sifting through the documents at an increasingly fast pace, eyes unusually sharp and intent as they devoured every letter, word, and photo. When he reached the end of the file, and fell back into his chair, face buried in the palms of his hands.

Nara Shikamaru, the Most Honored Advisor to the Seventh Hokage, and Head of the Nara Clan was not a very emotional person. This was not to say that the man was completely unaffected by the world but that he could not be bothered to express strong feelings.

During times of peace, he floated along like a feather in the breeze, relaxed, and without a care. While the winds of war tore lesser men to shreds, he stood in the eye of a storm, unaffected and casual. When threatened, he let his arms hang by his sides, next to his kunai. Relaxed, he crossed his arms behind his head, opening vital spots and showing trust. His left eye twitched on the occasion when was annoyed by something or someone particularly troublesome. He had the composure of a statue, so much so that, typically, only the most observant ninja could differentiate between the subtle nuances of his mood.

Now, even a toddler would notice that Nara Shikamaru was clearly unnerved.

His hands peeled away from his face, shattering the stone layers of his composure like dust in the wind. His thumbs and fingers pressed together to form a circle in his lap. He breathed deeply through his nose, eyes closed, mouth creased in concentration - no, not concentration, Shikadai realized. Worry. Anxiety. Fear.

For some unknown reason, his father thought dying deer were a serious problem, and not because he was very passionate about environmental conservation.

It was a mystery, a puzzle, a game - and Shikadai _loved_ games. Excitement bubbled in his chest, threatening to bring a smile to his lips. He quickly shoved the feeling down, and frowned instead, forcing himself to radiate teenage indifference from every pore in his body.

“So…what’s up with the deer?” he pretended not to care about the answer.

Shikamaru’s left eye twitched. His gaze flickered to the opposite wall – in the direction of the protected lands, and the dying deer, Shikadai surmised.

With each second that passed in silence, Shikadai grew more and more curious. His father was not a lazy person - no, he was simply very _efficient._ He did not go around blowing his high IQ thinking about topics that did not deserve it.

“Oi, dad, did you hear me? What’s up with the deer?” Shikadai prodded.

“… I don’t know,” Shikamaru quietly professed, refusing to meet his son’s gaze. “The last pages of the report were not there…”

Sensing that this conversation was over, Shikadai rolled his eyes and unpaused his game.

“I’m going to ANBU headquarters to get the rest of that report,” his father suddenly announced.

“Really?” Shikadai glanced at the clock at the top of his screen. “It’s late.”

“It’s a quarter after ten and you have school tomorrow,” Shikamaru informed him, shoving the report in a metal safe. “Meaning, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Maa, really? Let me finish this level.” The bloody jaw of a ghoul lunged at his screen.

“One more level,” his father agreed, half out the door. “I’ll be home to check on you soon.”

“Whatever. Be safe.” In a blur of joysticks and fingers, Shikadai’s avatar rolled to the left, equipped a broadsword and thrust it into the sky. A magical array manifested at the tip of his sword, swirling with silver, overlapping circles and elegant light runes. He lowered the sword, aiming the array at the horde.

They shuffled toward him with foggy grey eyes, nails cracked and jaws heavy with sharp teeth.

“ _With this, I release thee from thy torment!_ ” his character recited, array glowing brighter and spinning faster, flooding the battlefield with heavenly light. “ _Holy!”_

The ghouls froze - then exploded into dust.

Shikadai smiled to himself, happy to live another day.

After saving the game, he turned off the lights and left the room, shuffling towards his bedroom. He slowed, eyes drawn to the corner of the house where all the darkness gathered.  “Well? What do you want?”

A Tiger ANBU slipped out of the shadows. “Nara Shikadai,” she declared, “I am here to deliver a report to your father, the Most Honored Advisor to the Hokage.” She had the air of a person that was completely and utterly professional, complete with the frustration of always having to clean up after other people’s messes.

Shikadai wasn’t particularly impressed. “Your comrade, Bunny, was just here with a report.”

“His name is _Rabbit_ ,” she rumbled, “and I am here to clean up his mess. Where is your father?”

“Somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere other than here.”

Tiger bristled, then paused, head tilted to the side as she listened to staticky murmurs from her headset. _Unknown male, silver hair, breaching perimeter. Very dangerous. All available ANBU, respond immediately._

“…I don’t have time for this. Here,” she pulled a folder from a satchel and shoved it towards him. “You are to give these to your father the moment he returns home. Do _not_ , under any circumstances, _read this report._ It contains S-Class village secrets. Should you do so despite my warning, you will immediately be considered an enemy of the village and dealt with accordingly. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“ _Good,_ ” she purred.

Tiger faded away, one limb at a time, until only her mask remained. The bone white face hovered like the disembodied head of an oni, fangs painted with dewy red drops. It winked, and ceased to exist.

Bone white fingers clutched at the folder. Shikadai had no doubt that Tiger would kill him if he read the report, and tried to kill his curiosity - but it just wouldn’t stay dead. _Imagine your satisfaction_ , it goaded, conjuring images of his father over the report, grim and jaw set like a man walking to his execution. _Imagine the pleasure when you finally scratch that itch. Don’t you want to know?_

Curiosity brought Shikadai back to his father’s office and set the folder down. It guided his hands to the edge of the folder, now damp and wrinkled with cold sweat. He ripped his hands away -

The folder cracked open, and a photo of a deer fell onto the desk.

It was a small thing, no more than two or three months old. Its brittle, stick-like legs and an impossibly thin neck butchered in a mess of dark threads, its stomach slashed open and spilling out onto the forest floor. It looked at him with imploring eyes, black strings wiggling out of its fur. Though they were frozen on a glossy picture, the tendrils looked terrifyingly _real._ He couldn’t help but imagine them pouring out of the photo and burrowing into his chest. _What were those things?_

He shook his head, willing away the mental image. “I feel like I don’t want to know.”   

Despite himself, he snuck the picture into his pocket and opened the folder, revealing dozens upon dozens of photos of victims. Most were deer, all dismembered or split in half in some shape and form by the mysterious strings, some thick like rope and others thin like wire. _Medical examination of the recovered corpses reveal that all victims had their hearts ripped out by a strong outside force_ , a caption underneath one photo read. Shikadai self-consciously clutched at his chest.

The strings killed other things, too. Birds, for example. Racoons. Bears. A few Nara clansman strung up from a black and lifeless canopy, threads pouring from their lips. The head of the Hog ANBU, body nowhere around.

The report read on,

_Though deers are the primary victims of these attacks, it is apparent that the Jiongu threads will kill anything within a pulse, so long as they are within the boundaries of the Nara Clan Forest. As such, we recommend that the Nara Clan Head immediately ban entry to the forest until such a time where the threat can be properly eliminated or quarantined._

_It is our conclusion that the seal imprisoning the missing nin Kakuzu and his Jiongu thread technique is on the verge of failing. Given that the threads have destroyed  the forest ecosystem, there is no doubt that a completely broken seal would result in -_

The door slammed.

Startled, Shikadai threw the papers back into the file. He darted back into his room with the stealth and quickness of a child desperate to avoid being grounded.

“Shikadai?” his father called out. “Are you asleep?”

He jumped into bed and pulled the covers over his face, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard the door open, light flooding into his room. A head poked into the room. Seeing nothing suspicious, it shrugged. The door closed with a sharp ‘click’.

The room was covered in darkness once more.

Shikadai rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, visions of monsters dancing through his head.

* * *

That night, and for weeks afterwards, Shikadai dreamt of a being with hundreds of faces twisted in rage, sadness, and horror. Its body went on for miles, consuming everything it touched - here a forest, there a village. A deer wheezed, eyes bulging and twisting as it was digested.

There was an even darker evil lingering at the bottom of the monster. It pressed to the surface, bulged against the skin, and demanded that Shikadai “ ** _let me out right_** _ **NOW - ”**_

He woke up, gasping for air. The dream faded away, like sand through fingers, leaving only the memory of a monster called _Kakuzu._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story! (´∀｀)
> 
> I'm very eager to hear what you think about it, so feel free to throw me a comment or kudos below~!


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